With Jackson in place, negotiations with Jordan could begin in earnest. But Michael made it clear he would be no pushover at the table. "I'm pretty unhappy with the way they kept Phil on the brink," Jordan said. "I'll debate with no one. If it's a situation I'm not happy with, I'm not afraid to walk away."

It never came to that, mostly because Reinsdorf exceeded even Jordan's expectations when it came time to pony up. Near the end of a '95-96 season that would see him named MVP of the All-Star Game, the regular season and the Finals, Jordan had said it would take a two-year contract in the neighborhood of $36 million for him to stay in Chicago. Reinsdorf offered $30 million for one year.

Williams hooked on late and produced in the paint.

photo by Al Tielemans

"I'm going soft, but it's a curable disease," Reinsdorf said after signing a contract that gave Jordan the biggest single-season salary in NBA history. "On the other hand, there is only one Michael. There's never going to be another Michael, and what we've done is in appreciation for what he has meant to the franchise over 11 seasons." Indeed, much of the $30 million was considered catch-up money for Jordan, who for years was grossly underpaid compared with what lesser NBA players were pulling down. Jordan had just reached the end of an eight-year deal that had paid him a total of $24 million, including $3.85 million for 1995-96. (In comparison, Chris Webber made $6.4 million that season, Derrick Coleman $5.5 million.) "Call them psychic dollars," Reinsdorf said of Jordan's raise.

With the owner feeling so generous, the Jordan negotiations were cake. They were finalized while Jordan played golf in Lake Tahoe and his agent, David Falk, packed for a Paris vacation. Reinsdorf was in his office in Chicago while Krause was out to sea on a cruise. "The total elapsed time of our phone calls was less than one hour," said Reinsdorf. "Not bad considering all the ship-to-shore phone calls to Jerry Krause." With Jackson and Jordan in the fold, the Bulls could now train their attention on Rodman. "That's Krause's problem," said Reinsdorf. "Wherever he is."

Problem being the operative word. Rodman, 35 at the time but coming off his fifth straight rebounding title and riding a tsunami of public adulation, took to negotiating through the newspapers. "Offering me $5 million was an insult," Rodman told the Chicago Sun-Times. "And $6 million obviously isn't much better. I'd rather quit than play for $6 million.

"If Reinsdorf would do the right thing, he would say, 'Let's pay the guy. He paid his dues.' But they come to me and say stuff like I'm 35 years old. I know that. They also talk about that Michael has taken all the money and there's none left. Come on."

A twist in the negotiations came in early July, when the Greek team Panathinaikos offered Rodman a one-year deal for nearly $5 million, tax-free, plus two cars, a villa, a stash of airline tickets so he could fly in pals as the spirit moved him and other unspecified enticements. The Greek proposal may or may not have made much difference to the Bulls, but Rodman eventually was offered, and accepted, $9 million for the 1996-97 season. Rodman summed up the contract spectacle as only he could: "In this sport, they bring you in and use you and suck all the blood out of you and spit you out and say, 'O.K., who's next?'"

The answer to that question turned out to be Robert Parish. Signing the nine-time All-Star—who had won three championships as a member of the Boston Celtics in the 1980s, and who in conjunction with the NBA's 50th anniversary celebrations would be named one of the league's 50 greatest players—was the one significant addition to the roster in the off-season. Never mind that Parish was the oldest player in the league... in 1990. Or that at 43 he was older than five head coaches. The Chief had plenty to offer. "I told Rob I needed help with my puppies," said Krause, in reference to young big men Jason Caffey and Dickey Simpkins.

Parish was happy to housebreak the youngsters—in fact, he was happy to receive an offer at all. "I was done," he said of his pro career, which had begun in 1976 with the Golden State Warriors and had ended, or so Parish thought, in Charlotte, where he had spent the past two seasons playing for the Hornets. "Through. Finished. I wasn't going back or planning to go back. I was shocked when I got the call. I had no idea that there was this much interest in me. I had to do a lot of soul-searching to make sure that I could still play."

That issue was never satisfactorily determined, as Parish averaged just 3.7 points and 9.4 minutes in 43 games. But as the '96-97 season—surely the Chief's last—wound down, Jackson paid him his due: "Robert hasn't really been able to get going on the floor, but his contributions off the floor are very important to our ball club. He settles things down and gives younger players an experienced voice."

The other addition was a player who, when it comes to his career, pretty much listens only to his own voice. Brian Williams has always been something of a rugged individualist, and this proved to be a huge boon to the Bulls, who were able to sign him in April—73 games into the season. Up until then, the 6'11" center/forward had been sitting on the sidelines waiting to be struck by the inspiration to play basketball. In the summer of 1996 the five-year veteran, coming off a career season during which he averaged 15.8 points and 7.6 rebounds for the Los Angeles Clippers, turned down multiyear contracts worth $16 million from the Clippers and $35 million from the Seattle SuperSonics. Williams spent his sabbatical earning a pilot's license—one of his many eclectic pursuits, which in the past have included running with the bulls in Pamplona, skydiving, taking a transcontinental bike ride and, perhaps most surprising for an NBA player, reading Nietzsche.

During his time off, Williams also underwent minor surgery on his knee, and as he was rounding into shape, his services were in high demand down the stretch by wannabe title contenders. The Jazz offered him $1 million to play the final two months, even though the erudite Williams once labeled the odor coming off the Great Salt Lake as "pungent." Instead, he chose the Bulls, though for his nine-game regular season he earned just $30,000—the prorated portion of the league-minimum $247,500 for veterans. "He's a big pickup," Jordan said at the time of the signing. "It gives us a faster team offensively on the break and a more agile team defensively. He can certainly be a big weapon for us on the boards with his physical play."

Williams did play big in the postseason. In the first-round clincher against the Hawks he scored 12 points and had 10 rebounds. In the Game 3 loss to Utah in the Finals, he was one of the few Bulls to show any fire, scoring 16 points and grabbing six boards. Williams played with an unmistakable urgency: Because of the Bulls' salary-cap constraints, he will almost certainly be playing elsewhere next year.

"The future is now," Williams said after he signed with Chicago. "The future is absolutely right now."

So it was for the Bulls as a whole in 1996-97. Wisely, they made the most of their opportunity. Champions usually do.